


Breathe

by tylerfucklin (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Implied Underage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tylerfucklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate may have been something he’d regret with every single breath he took, but Stiles was something he would cherish with each exhale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halona (BoudicaMuse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoudicaMuse/gifts).



> I wanna thank [scarletnerded](http://scarletnerded.tumblr.com/post/26605849719/dont-worry-darling-ill-pay-your-bail) for the prompt

Of all the things that Stiles has hidden from his father in the past year and a half, Derek never expected this to be the one he would find out about first. He would have thought the werewolves, or the hunters, or the hundred, thousand other things they’ve been through would have been uncovered first.

This isn’t the first time Derek’s been shoved into the back of Sheriff Stilinski’s patrol car, but it’s the first time that he’s been shoved with a lot less care and forced to endure the stifling heat of all of the windows rolled up. The full strength of California’s finest summer makes the leather seat burn when he tries to press his naked back against it. Derek tried not to let it bother him, but rapid healing didn’t account for the suffocating pressure that came from the stale, hot air of the cruiser.

He could hear Stiles arguing with his father, picking up the hummingbird whirr of Stiles’ heart as he screamed and protested accusations of molestation and dubious consent. Derek shifted, arms bent at an awkward angle against the seat and the cuffs around his wrists clinking softly. He could feel sweat trickling down his spine, making his skin stick to the worn leather that had been the throne for hundreds of felons and murderers and punk kids begging for a second chance.

Derek didn’t want a second chance, because it meant he’d be taking back every second he’d ever had with Stiles. Every second they’d pushed and pulled at each other, fighting, lashing out, until it finally came to a head just months prior - a stupid decision, followed by one of many countless arguments, before Derek had found himself being shoved into the wall and dragged into a kiss as ferocious as the very friendship he and Stiles had shared.

Stiles had grown so much in the near-two years that Derek had known him. He’d grown, flourished as the only human in a pack of werewolves, had proven himself so many times that Derek was helpless to stop himself from being dragged into the undertow of falling in love for the second time in his life.

Kate may have been something he’d regret every single breath he took, but Stiles was something he would cherish with each exhale.

“Dad, would you just listen to me?!” Stiles cried, his face blotchy and bare chest heaving. His t-shirt was bunched up in his fist, arms shaking with tension to keep from attacking his own father. Derek struggled to keep his breathing even, pressing his head tiredly against the window and contemplating trying to ask for at least one window to be cracked open before he suffocated from the sheer heat alone. Stiles choked on his words, voice cracking as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“I love him,” Stiles pleaded, blinking away tears and clenching his jaw to gather the courage to continue speaking, “Don’t you get that? Don’t you remember what it was like? Dad, _please_.”

Derek sat up so suddenly that the belt of his jeans dug into his stomach, forehead bumping into the window and his heart hiccuping in his chest. He was half-certain he was on his way to heat stroke, lungs squeezing every breath from him the second he drew one in, unable to tear his eyes away from Stiles. Sheriff Stilinski carded a hand through his hair as Stiles blinked, knocking a tear from his lower lid and down his cheek, and turned to look straight at Derek. Derek, who was ready to be put behind bars for him, who - despite the sheer mortification of the situation they were in - wanted to always remember that exact second those words had passed Stiles’ lips.

“I’m in love with you,” Stiles croaked, knowing Derek could hear him through the bulletproof glass, the rasp of his uneven breathing, and the chirping of the summer cicadas.

The last time anyone had told Derek they loved him, Laura had pressed a kiss to his forehead, ran a hand through his hair, and headed towards the airport terminal destined for Beacon Hills with a promise to be home by the end of the week. It terrified him, to hear those words again, to know that he held such a high purpose in anyone’s heart.

It terrified him more than any argument they’d ever had, than any life-or-death moment that they’d barely survived. It was more frightening and disorienting than kissing Stiles in the back of the camaro one minute, and having his door wrenched open and forced into a pair of handcuffs in the next.

Just watching Stiles tense, hearing his heart seize and flutter in dread, fear, and love, was enough for Derek to press his head into the window. Stiles’ heart may have been going mad in his chest, but when those words had left his mouth…

not a single blip, not a murmur or hiccup.

“I-” Derek choked, tongue swelling in his mouth, heavy with words that haven’t been spoken in so long, he’s nearly forgotten what it feels like to say them. “I love you,” he rasped, throat dry and sweat trickling down his temple, catching in his eye and making his vision sting for the few seconds it took Stiles to read his lips with gradually widening eyes.

Stiles’ father watched the exchange, face growing darker and darker before he cursed softly under his breath. “Dammit, Stiles,” he hissed, crossing back to the patrol car in three quick steps before grabbing the handle to the patrol car and jerking the door open.  Derek didn’t have a chance to brace himself, hands wrenching in the cuffs in an aborted attempt to throw his arms out and stop his fall. He never hit the ground, though.  Stiles is there, dropping to his knees and catching the upper half of Derek’s body in a frantic embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles gasped, fingers scrambling around his back and face pressed into Derek’s throat. Their chests stuck together from the warmth of their flesh and the sweat sticking to Derek’s body. Derek couldn’t stop himself from sucking in that first breath of clean air, nose buried against the curve where Stiles’ neck met his shoulders. It was the purest, most refreshing second of his life, head swimming with Stiles’ scent and filling him with gratitude and utter, debilitating _relief_. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

“I love you,” Derek repeated breathlessly into Stiles’ skin, finding himself unable to say anything else. Stiles’ laugh sounded more like a sob than anything, fingers shifting to cup his head and pull him back so that their noses brushed. “I love you.” Derek repeated, because he knew now that he’d never tire of saying it - of having someone for the first time in so long that he could actually say it _to_ ; someone living, breathing, and who loved him back just as wholly.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles whimpered, fingers scraping on the stubble lining Derek’s jawline as he cradled Derek’s face. “I thought my dad was going to kill you.”

“He could try,” Derek muttered, smirking despite how hard he tried not to because Stiles was quickly smothering a laugh into his mouth. His lips parted instinctively, pressing into the kiss, their lips sticking together as Stiles clutched to his face, frantic in the way he barely gave Derek a second to breathe before he was kissing him again and again. Derek could care less; could go the rest of his life without breathing if it meant having Stiles here, holding him and kissing him and loving him when no one else would.

Stiles nuzzled at his mouth, nipping and dragging Derek’s upper lip between his teeth before he lowly drew back to open his eyes.

“I feel like I just witnessed a Lifetime movie.”

Stiles and Derek jerked their heads to where Stiles’ father was rubbing his temples, hovering just a few feet away. Stiles’ grin was blinding, shrugging once and laughing.

“Well, we could have avoided all of this if you had, maybe… I dunno, talked to me?”

“We’re not going to have this discussion here. You are grounded,” Sheriff Stilinski pointed a finger at Stiles, eyes narrowing before he pointed to Derek, “and you and I need to have a nice, long chat. I want you both at the house in an hour.”

Stepping forward, Stiles’ father pulled out his keys, unlocking the cuffs around Derek’s wrist with nothing but cold professionalism. Derek thanked him softly, unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Stiles’ shoulders and holding tightly to him. Stiles was quick to return the embrace, nosing up behind Derek’s ear and kissing the lobe. Derek could hear the patrol car when it pulled away from the gravel road leading up to the cliff, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of Stiles just yet.

Whatever the future held, that was okay, because the only thing that mattered right now was the warm body in his arms.

“That wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped our first shared experience with handcuffs would go,” Stiles muttered, wheezing when Derek barked out a laugh and squeezed him tight.


End file.
